Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Street Punks" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Street Punks" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
- Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that undefined employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
- Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Street Punks" not only celebrates undefined's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!
I ain't worried about the police
I ain't worried about these little niggas talking about they hold heat
I ain't stressing going broke
I don't never leave them residences alone, keep it on me
I'm the nigga that you quote
I'm the only conversation if you speaking up on Long Beach
Get to acting like you know
Don't be acting like you bold, get it cracking at a show
Heard the FEDs taking pictures, let a motherfucker pose
Tryna be the only Crippin' nigga sitting in the Vogue
Better put me on the cover, undercovers at my home
Tryna catch a nigga slippin', but I'm stickin' to the flow
Heard these niggas flippin' coke, why the fuck these niggas broke?
If there's shooters in the squad, what's the bodyguard for?
You ain't calling me collect and I ain't pickin' up the phone
Got some homies from the set who ain't never comin' home
You wouldn't know about it
You a street punk
You a muthafuckin' street punk
No one know about you
You a street punk
You a muthafuckin' street punk
This'll blow up at you
Where the cash at, where the cash at?
Where ya pass at, where ya stash at?
Bet my last rack you ain't have that
Why? Cause you a muthafuckin' street punk!
I don't know if ya heard of me
But you heard them shots on the block, it's a murder scene
Go on call the cops, open heart, durin' surgery
Now his breathing stopped, stupid niggas should of knew we tripping
Now he in a box, Winchester's
Hundred in the box, Smith Wesson
Stuff it to the top and we coming to your spot
Knocking on the door, askin' where he at
Playin' games then we kick it down, everybody flat
On the ground, kids get kidnapped, go and ask 'bout it
Well you know how we rocking, nigga, you know who we wackin' now
You ain't never caught a body, know it cause you talkin' 'bout it
Catch me off nado
You a motherfucking street punk
You a street punk
You a muthafuckin' street punk
No one know about you
You a street punk
You a muthafuckin' street punk
This'll blow up at you
Where the cash at, where the cash at?
Where ya pass at, where ya stash at?
Bet my last rack you ain't have that
Why? Cause you a muthafuckin' street punk!